


Waiting For The Punchline

by LapisExilis



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bad Writing, Depression, Gen, Near Future, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapisExilis/pseuds/LapisExilis





	Waiting For The Punchline

Jim straightened the lapels of his finest suit, displaying his compilation of metals. He blankly studied the man staring back at him from a dirty mirror. At least his hair was perfect. Walking out of his bathroom, he located his badge and gun. Jim Gordon holstered the loaded gun. The badge lingered in his hand, shining in a dreary landscape. It ment so much. Too much. Jim took a deep breath and attached his most important metal to his belt.

The bridges had been rebuilt. Government reappeared in Gotham. Crime was pushed back to it's more typical corners. Safe- by Gotham standards. Jim Gordon had been an integral part of it all. Everything was more or less fine now. It was fine, but it was Hell. Jim Gordon was in Hell. Except now there wasn't much of a reason to stay. He checked his appearance one more time before leaving his apartment.

Jim took a cab one-third of the way to his destination. He did this for two reasons. Firstly, he didn't want anyone to know his location. And secondly, he needed to visit a flower stand. He walked up to the stand, run by a frail elderly woman. He had rarely ever had cause to come here, sans buying a gift for an ex-girlfriend. However, it brought him pleasant feelings when driving past it on the way to work. A smudge of color in a gray wall. He was surprised the woman had survived the past years. Today, Jim came for a bouquet of roses.

"What's the occasion?" She asked as she handed him the cheap flowers.

"I'm going to a funeral." He said flatly. He handed the woman two hundred dollars, and quickly left.

After a short walk, Jim reached his destination: Penguin's Bar. It was a slow day, so the place was practically empty, besides several minions. Jim was shot several looks as the walked in clad in full uniform, roses in hand. He paid it no mind, and sat at the bar, casually. Jim ordered himself a drink, and sipped it slowly, while staring off at nothing in particular. When he was finished, he asked the bartender if Penguin was in. The answer was yes. So Jim picked his flowers back up and walked up the Penguin's private office.

When Jim opened the door, he found Penguin scribbling on forms at his desk.

"Jim, haven't you heard of knocking?" Penguin greeted him with annoyance. Penguin looked genuinely surprised to see him, Penguin also looked like he had been up all night.

"Hi, Oswald" Jim said, still seeming detached. He put his bouquet on a nearby table. He looked back to Penguin and forced a weak smile.

"Hello, _Jim_! What the hell are you doing here?" He spoke theatrically.

"I've come to arrested you" Jim told him emotionlessly. Oswald looked up from his papers incredulously, waiting for the punchline, or the real reason. But Oswald could gather nothing from Jim's behavior. He was beginning to feel a bit disconcerted. No one was prosecuted for any crimes committed during Gotham's state of anarchy, and he knew for a fact that the cops didn't have any evidence for any recent infractions.

"Ummm, what?" Penguin put down his pen.

"I've come to place you under arrest" Jim's monotone voice said, "place your hand behind your back"

Penguin jumped up from the table. "Is this some kind of joke? Jim?" Oswald was growing more and more confused and disturbed. He wasn't currently on good terms with Jim Gordon. And no doubt had the past taken a toll on him. But Oswald had never seen him like this. Several seconds passed with Jim staring blankly in Penguin's direction. Then Jim unholstered his gun.

"Jim?"

"I haven't called for backup... So I'll have to take you in myself. I'm not in a rush, Since no one knows I'm here"

"Look, Jim, you clearly don't have any evidence. I don't owe you anything. This is pointless." Oswald reasoned that this must some poorly throught-out tactic, or mini- psychotic breakdown, or just a drunken excursion. Oswald began walking towards the door. "I'm getting security."

Jim abruptly grabbed Penguin by his coat, and pinned him against the wall, with a dull thud, eliciting a gasp. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that." Jim told him coldly. He reholstered his weapon, and kept a firm hand on Penguin, placing his other hand on the wall. This left Penguin with easy access to Jim's gun, which he took. He did so quickly, and shoved the muzzle of the gun against Jim's stomach.

"Get out, or only one of us is going to be leaving here alive!" Penguin shouted.

Both of them were breathing heavily at this point, and Jim's face was downturned, hair beginning to fall out of place. "Then what are you waiting for?" Jim panted.

"What the fuck?" Oswald asked becoming increasingly enraged. Before he could say anything else, Jim shoved him back into the wall again, and Penguin tensed, pulling the trigger inadvertently.

_Bang_

The shot rang out, followed by what felt like an eternity of silence. Their was just the shrill sound of ringing, for both parties, but after awhile they became aware of each other's breathing. Jim's ragged panting, and Oswald's steady but shallow exhales. Jim didn't feel any pain. He wasn't sure if he had been shot. Everything felt blurry and sounds were muffled. Jim was vaguely aware of somebody opening the door- probably one of Oswald's employees- and exchanging a few words with Oswald, when leaving. Jim looked down at the red seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

"Jim!" Oswald called out.

The blood sort of ate through the fabric. It or the fabric was converted, rather. Each little area of cloth was systematically overtaken.

"Jim" Oswald called louder, and this time Jim heard him clearly. Jim looked up into Oswald's scared face. They were both still standing against the wall. Jim was strangely, and bitterly pleased with Penguin's dismay.

"Is this what you wanted?" Oswald spat. Jim was still clinging to him in an odd position, but felt his knees give out, and sank to the floor. He mustered enough strength to steer himself against the wall for support. Penguin was standing over him.

"Come here" Jim coughed, the pain of his wound creeping in.

Oswald hesitated but Jim made a weak hand motion for him. Oswald knelt down.

"Why now? Why didn't you just let it happen? I mean, I know you always have to be a white knight... But of all the things that happened, even recently, you avoided death... Even after Jeremiah." Oswald asked sourly. He moved next to Jim against the wall.

"I wanted it to be you" Jim whispered "I think, we deserve each other." Jim took a deep shaky breath, and reached out for Oswald, pulling him closer until Jim's head was on his shoulder.

"Oswald, don't remember me like this." 

Oswald let out a sob.

"You did me a favor, Oswald."

"I didn't think I owed you any favors, Jim."

"Friends don't owe friends favors."

 


End file.
